


I'm Gonna Love You (Like I'm Gonna Lose You)

by sadhockeytrashbaby (allofthefandoms)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Health Issues, Career Ending Injuries, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5622175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/sadhockeytrashbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pascal goes down untouched and everyone knows it’s bad.</p>
<p>He’s coughing and coughing right at the face off dot to Marc’s left and there is pink on his lips and there is no ways that’s a good thing. Marc looks up and meets Tanger’s frantic eyes from where he’s stuck helpless on the bench as Chris and doctors from both teams rush onto the ice, already waving for a stretcher even before they get to Duper’s side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Gonna Love You (Like I'm Gonna Lose You)

**Author's Note:**

> I got a beautiful Sin Bin prompt for the Pens French-Canadians being a trio and my mind immediately went to 'what if Duper got a life threatening clot' and then this happened.
> 
> And in case you missed it in the tags, this includes currents wives and families in a consenting and happy non-traditional arrangement because why ingore the ladies when bisexuality and polyamory exist.

Pascal goes down untouched and everyone knows it’s bad.  
  
He’s coughing and coughing right at the face off dot to Marc’s left and there is pink on his lips and there is no ways that’s a good thing. Marc looks up and meets Tanger’s frantic eyes from where he’s stuck helpless on the bench as Chris and doctors from both teams rush onto the ice, already waving for a stretcher even before they get to Duper’s side.  
  
Marc feels his own legs fail him when Pascal can’t even stand on his own to get onto the stretcher. He’s grey, slumped between two doctors as he’s lifted up, an oxygen mask slipped over his face. The arena is silent.  
  
He is relieved when the refs sends them to the locker room. Thee had been only a minute and a half left in the period, and no one on either team was quite ready to keep playing after what had just happened. Kris grabs his arm as he passes, mouth working around words both of them hear but can’t say in public.   
  
“Please…” Kris whimpers, as if Marc can change this by pure force of will. There’s nothing he can say to that, so he just makes his way down the tunnel, eyes burning.  
  
The mood is the locker room is stunned and fearful. Everyone has some idea of what’s going on, but they have no idea how bad it is. And everyone knows that no matter what happens Duper won’t ever play again.  
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.  
  
. .  
  
Kris is calling Carole-Lyne while they wait in the hospital waiting room. Marc would do it if his hands weren’t shaking so hard, but the very thought of trying to talk to someone right now made him sick. His phone kept buzzing with calls from Vero, but he knew if he picked up he would start to cry. He tries to focus on Kris’ soft French, but it just seems to make the knot in his throat tighter.   
  
When Kris hangs up, Marc can see that his eyes are red rimmed with tears and he reaches for the other man before he can stop himself. Kris sags against his side, and all of a sudden Marc can’t hold back his tears. The knot in his throat expands and burbles, ripping huge gasping sobs from his chest. Kris pulls him close as the others look away.  
  
They stay even as the others filter out back to their hotel rooms, promises to call as soon as he knows something heavy on Marc’s tongue. A few of the Penguins medical staff linger to assist in care however they can, but a few hours after the game, it’s only Marc and Kris left, slumped together in uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs.   
  
“He’s awake and asking for you both,” Chris says. He looks exhausted, but Kris and Marc share relieved looks. If he’s asking for them he’s awake and if he’s awake he’s not dying.  
  
He looks like he’s dying when they step into his room.  
  
He’s grey, face sunken with pain and trauma. A nasal cannula hisses faintly with oxygen as he breathes and an IV pulls at the crook of his elbow but the heart rate monitor is beeping evenly and his breaths are deep.  
  
It’s Kris’ turn to cry when he sees Pascal like this, collapsing at the side of the bed and grabbing Pascal’s hand. He starts blubbering in nonsense French, knuckles white his grip is so hard.  
  
“I’m not dying love,” Pascal murmurs, interrupting Kris’ tears. “The doctors say I’m responding well to treatment and that I should recover with minimal long-term effects.”  
  
“Long term effects?” Marc hadn’t thought Kris could have gotten paler before he bolted upright, face white under the splotches from his earlier sobs.  
  
“The doctors say I’m likely to have reduced lung capacity due to the injury,” Pascal said, voice low. “Not like it matters. I can’t play hockey again anyway…”  
  
“You’re alive.” Marc’s voice sounds alien it’s so hoarse and thick. “Your wife still has her husband, your 4 beautiful kids still have their father and we…we still have you. That’s what matters.”

. .

Vero and Catherine take one look at their husbands before silently agreeing to take their things and shoving them in a taxi to go to the Dupuis‘. When they arrive, Carole-Lyne looks on the verge of tears, throwing herself at Marc with a whimper.  
  
“We’ll look after the kids,” Marc says softly. “They aren’t sure when Pascal will be cleared to fly home and I know you want to be with him.”  
  
“You don’t…”  
  
“Bullshit we don’t. We’re not the only people who love him.” She gives him a pathetically grateful look and goes to pack.  
  
. .   
  
They tell the kids that it’s a sleepover. They lap it up, gleeful to be sleeping in a fort in the living room made up of pushed together mattresses and blankets dotted with fairy lights. Marc and Kris pour themselves into hockey and the children, anything to keep from thinking about Pascal, still tucked into a hospital bed instead of home where he belonged.  
  
The first night is the worst.  
  
They would always go to the Dupuis household when they wanted to all be together, and 6 months into whatever their relationship was, Pascal had gotten a custom bed made big enough for 3 hockey players and the occasional child.  
  
It feels massive.  
  
It’s not warm enough even if they pile all the blankets high and huddle close, and there is just too much space. Pascal sprawled when he slept, always in the middle so Marc and Kris could snuggle close. The absence is a physical reminder of everything they have been trying to put out of their minds.  
  
Kris wakes in the middle of the night sobbing. It jerks Marc from deep sleep, and he is disoriented for a terrifying moment before remembering what had happened. He tugs Kris close, his own heart aching.  
  
“I was on the bench,” he blubbers into Marc’s shoulder. “I didn’t even see him go down. I was too busy watching the play and then he was crumpled on the ice. I couldn’t go to him, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. I just wanted to be there so I could hold his hand, tell him how much I love him but I can’t because he doesn’t want to come out and explain everything and I don’t blame him for that with his kids but it’s so hard pretending I’m just missing my friend and he could have died, Flower. He could have died…”  
  
“It didn’t happen Kris,” Marc soothes, stroking his hair. “He’ll be home soon. We haven’t lost him.”  
  
Marc can’t dwell on how easily they could have.  
  
. .  
  
It’s ten days before Pascal is cleared to travel home.  
  
They beg off practice to go pick him and Carole-Lyne up from the airport, packing Pascal’s gaggle of children into the minivan. Pascal looks better than the last time they had seen him, but he’s still pale, leaning on his wife’s arm. He manages a grin for his children, but it’s obvious that he’s exhausted and still in a great deal of pain.   
  
It’s agony for Marc and Kris to watch.   
  
They put him right to bed, stacking pillows up behind him to help him breathe easier. Marc and Kris curl close, wanting to hear his steady breathing and even heartbeat. He manages a soft, sad smile for both of them, tangling their hands together.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I never meant…I thought I’d know before it got that bad. And to have it happen on the ice, away from home…”  
  
“We all know you want nothing more than to play,” Marc says softly. “We understand.”  
  
“Even if we are still a little mad at you,” Kris adds, making Marc roll his eyes. Pascal smiles, but he’s clearly exhausted. Marc kisses his temple and tugs a blanket over their combined forms.  
  
“Rest, love. We’re okay.”  
  
. .  
  
The day Duper officially retires, Marc gets a shutout and Kris has 4 points.  
  
The home crowd roars for him, relief and thankfulness dragging them to their feet. Kris has to blink away tears at the touching tribute video, Maeva giving him a little wave from where she stands with her father.  
  
After, he finds them in the locker room, suit jacket gone and sleeves rolled up. Kris doesn’t hide his appreciative look.  
  
“It’s time,” he says softly, pulling them close. Marc’s face goes soft settling against Pascal’s side as Kris does the same. Pascal clears his throat to get the others attention and the room falls quiet, the media drawing close.  
  
“Nearly dying has brought me a lot of perspective.” Pascal’s voice is soft, but carries easily through the quiet room. “I love my wife and family very much, but for years I’ve not been completely honest about my family’s true makeup. When I married my wife, I thought it made my bisexuality a non issue. I didn’t have to talk about it when people looked at me and saw what they expected . And then I unexpectedly fell in love with two of the most amazing men I’ve ever had the honor of meeting.” Marc and Kris offer their hands in silent support and Pascal takes them gratefully.  
  
“I’ve been in love with Marc and Kris for nearly 6 years. With the blessing of our wives, we’ve been together as a trio for about 4, and they have co-raised my children as I have been involved with theirs. It’s not a traditional arrangement, but it’s one full of love and understanding. These two amazing, talented men have shaped me as a player and as a person, and all I could think of when they wheeled me off was that I didn’t want to die without you knowing just what they mean to me.” There is a faint sniffle from Sid’s direction that makes Pascal’s smile grow. The reporters don’t seem to know what to make of the announcement, but the arrival of Carole-Lyne and the kids, breaks the awkwardness. She gives each of them a quick kiss, smiling brightly.

  
“So this means we can go ahead and buy that 5 bedroom house I’ve been looking at and you can all move in right? We can convert some of the extra space for the kids of course, and that open floor plan is just delightful.”  
  
Pascal pulls her in for a sweet kiss, laughing despite everything.

 


End file.
